Papa flushed. “Well, I suppose, yes. Yes. But for all of you girls, not only you.”
She embraced Papa. “Such sufferings have you endured.”
He laughed. “You know that it is nothing of the sort.”
“It still was significant,” Elizabeth said stoutly. “And a deep show of concern for us.”
“Ah, what does it matter,” Mr. Bennet said. “A newer copy of any book is better to read, for I have no fear of damaging it.”
“I think I know what I shall buy foryournext gift,” Elizabeth said.
Mr. Bennet rubbed his hands. “Should you wish to buy me old, rare, and precious books, I confess that I would not take any offence—Mr. Darcy, I believe you have said that you have an extensive family library yourself.”
“It covers a large room in two levels,” Darcy replied. “The ancestor of mine who built Pemberley also had a love for reading and books, and he designed the room to make his collection appear as impressive as he might.”
“Well, well, well. I dare say—after you are settled in, Lizzy—that I must visit. To see how my daughter gets on.”
“Yes, of course.” Elizabeth said, “And if you only happen, by happenstance, to find yourself in the library for an hour, or two, or perhaps a whole month of hours together, that would simply be coincidence.”
Papa laughed. “Exactly. And I shall visit, and oftener than you expect.”
“I would like to see you frequently,” Darcy said.
“My wife—she rather cannot tell what is to be talked about from what is not. While I have troubled myself to curb her spending, I have not made any effort to curb her tongue. But I think that of the two, the one I chose gives more benefit to us all, and less unhappiness to her. I do not repent, especially as I rather enjoy listening to her speak.”
“Even if—” Darcy fell silent and glanced at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth answered for her father, “I hope that the conversation inourmarriage will provide both of us different pleasures, but as you have likely observed, my papa enjoys to watch interesting characters.”
“And then to laugh at their inconsistencies,” Darcy said. “But my dear, I only worried because I saw that you did not like how she spoke of Mr. Wickham.”
My dear.
She did not think that he had ever called herthat, but the endearment slipped out of him so easily.
Mr. Darcy received a wide smile from Elizabeth, and she said, “You were my perfect hero, and I thank you.”
“Has married life been what you both anticipated?” Papa smiled at them.
Elizabeth blushed.
“I can see that you look far better than before, Mr. Darcy—is it married life, or the natural recovery following a significant wound?”
“It is Elizabeth’s care and ministrations, beyond any doubt,” Darcy replied in a solemn tone.
Papa peered at him in such a way that Elizabeth giggled.
“We did,” Elizabeth offered, “consult a surgeon about the bullet remaining in Mr. Darcy, but he thinks that it is unlikely to ever cause any significant problems, and that any attempt to remove it would be far too dangerous.”
“One should never undertake surgery, except for the gravest reasons,” Mr. Bennet agreed. “And your sister, Mr. Darcy. She seems as attached as ever to the children and to be healthy.”
Both Darcy and Elizabeth frowned and looked at each other. “I am anxious for her,” Darcy said slowly. “Elizabeth has said the same. There likely shall be permanent consequences from her interaction with Mr. Wickham.”
“Whether or not she is with child,” Papa said, “there were permanent consequences—But this is not a matter for humor. What do you mean to do? I should mention that Mrs. Bennet is rather hopeful that you will invite some of the girls to spend some months with you.”
“To throw them into the paths of other rich men?” Elizabeth said with some distaste. “It is strange that I can both be delighted to see a person and yet find it difficult to listen to what they say—while we do not know what we shall do for Georgiana, nor even if weshalldo anything, it would not be wise to have one of my sisters with me—ought I feel guilty about that? The thought had never even occurred to me.”
She liked having Georgiana around. While she loved her sisters, it was a matter more of knowing than of feeling at present.
